


a kaleidoscope of butterflies

by imnotinclinedtomaturity



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2009, 2018, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Snow, cuddling for warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-07-17 18:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16101122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotinclinedtomaturity/pseuds/imnotinclinedtomaturity
Summary: Everyone knows that playing in the snow is just a good excuse for cuddling for warmth afterwards (or, two times Dan and Phil cuddled for warmth).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: thanks to @auroraphilealis for being my writing buddy tonight and taking a break from her own fic to edit for me xx
> 
> this is writing for my bingo card, prompt: cuddling for warmth

The snow is bitingly cold, and if Dan wasn’t so enamored with Phil, there is _no_ way he would have agreed to filming a damn _snow adventure_ today. Still, no amount of infatuation can stop him from being visibly disgruntled after falling face first into the snow for a second time.

“Ph _il_ ,” Dan whines. His voice is high and he’s flashing Phil the best puppy dog eyes he can. “I’m fucking freezing and now I’m sopping wet. Can we _please_ go inside now?”

“Be _ar_ ,” Phil pleads back, almost whining himself. “We’ve just got a few scenes left.” 

Phil’s looking at Dan with his own version of puppy dog eyes, and even though he hasn’t technically asked Dan for anything, Dan finds himself caving in. It’s only been two months since Dan meet Phil in real life, and he already knows he’s doomed to do anything Phil asks for or hints at or, hell, anything Dan even remotely thinks might make Phil smile. 

So, really, it’s no surprise to Dan when he merely shoots Phil a glare, a fond smile threatening to ruin the effect, and mutters, “Fine.” 

“Yay!” Phil cheers. He looks positively gleeful, and Dan’s happy for his decision, despite the fact that he’s losing feeling in his hands.

“You’re making me hot chocolate as soon as we’re done though,” Dan pouts, just for good measure. The bribe is hardly necessary, but Dan’s not above manipulating the situation so that he gets some coddling out of Phil after filming is said and done

“With extra marshmallows,” Phil promises, nodding with a serious look.

Dan smiles softly, finding it endearing how solemn and serious Phil is about _marshmallows_. 

“Alright, let’s get on with it, then.” Dan steps closer to Phil, grabbing the damp list of scenes from Phil’s hand and scanning over it to see what’s left.

“Hey,” Phil whispers, before Dan can fully process the list. One hand catches under Dan’s chin, a gentle pressure encouraging Dan to look up. Dan lets Phil tip his head up, his eyes ripping away from the paper. 

“Thanks, for doing this with me,” Phil murmurs, a soft, grateful grin visible for just a second before he’s closing the gap and kissing Dan.

It’s just a peck — or at least that’s what Phil was apparently intending. Dan is too caught up in how cute Phil is though, too intoxicated by his feelings for Phil, to let Phil go that easily. Dan chases after Phil’s lips, immediately pressing his lips to Phil’s again and again, until the chaste pecks turn into something more and they are languidly kissing in the middle of Phil’s snow-covered yard, the December air nipping at their exposed cheeks.

Phil’s lips are cold against Dan’s, but he doesn’t mind; Phil could be as cold as an icecube or as hot as the sun and Dan would still want to kiss him. Scratchy yarn rubs against Dan’s cheeks when Phil’s hands come up to cup his face and, again, Dan doesn’t mind. He’s just happy that Phil is touching him.

He leans into the warmth, leans into Phil, his arms wrapping around Phil’s waist and pulling him half a step closer. It’s broad daylight still, and Phil doesn’t exactly have a fence that affords them much privacy. Anyone who looked over would see them kissing — well, proper snogging now — and Dan doesn’t know what sort of people Phil’s neighbors are. He doesn’t know if they are like the persnickety woman that he lives next to in Wokingham, the one he heard very loudly telling her husband about how god condemns homosexuality. Phil doesn’t seem concerned though — quite the opposite really, given the way he’s licking at Dan’s bottom lip and gently encouraging him to open his mouth.

And, of course, Dan does. Because, again, there’s nothing Phil could ask for that Dan wouldn’t give, and Dan trusts Phil wholeheartedly. If Phil doesn’t have a problem with making out in the middle of the yard, Dan assumes that it must be fine.

Their slow, unhurried kisses turn into a bit more as their tongues dance together and they half-heartedly fight for dominance. Without meaning to, Dan lets out a quiet moan against Phil’s lips, his hands automatically pulling Phil closer and lightly grinding their hips together.

The noise must knock some sense into Phil, because he’s suddenly pulling back, his hips and his chest moving to a respectable distance, but his lips only a centimeter away. 

“Let’s finish so we can get inside, yeah?” Phil suggests, a twinkle in his eye and a small smirk on his lips.

“Okay,” Dan mumbles back. He’s a bit struck dumb from their kiss. 

Eventually, the newness of kissing Phil will probably wear off, and he’ll stop feeling so overwhelmed by the butterflies dancing in his stomach everytime that Phil is close. But right now, Dan wants to savor the feeling. He wants to let himself fall head over heels in love and enjoy every second of the honeymoon phase with the gorgeous man standing in front of him.

****

True to his word, Phil puts the kettle on as soon as they are back in the house. Dan tries to help, starts to make his way across the kitchen to fetch them two mugs, but Phil steps in his way and cuts off his path.

“Go sit in the lounge and I’ll be there in a minute with the hot chocolate,” Phil prompts, his hands on Dan’s shoulders, gently pushing him towards the door. “I promised you hot chocolate, so _I’ll_ make it. Besides, you look cold.”

Dan pouts for no _valid_ reason, but follows Phil’s directions all the same. Even to him, it seems a _little_ clingy to not want to be away from Phil for the ten minutes it will take for the water to get hot.

So he settles on the sofa, immediately tugging the chunky knit blanket off the armrest and draping it across his lap. He’s still freezing, he realizes, and his damp sweater isn’t helping matters. With a shiver, he pulls the blanket all the way up to his chin and burrows a bit further down into the cushions.

Exhausted from running around and filming all day — especially after sleeping so little last night since it was his first night with his _boyfriend_ in nearly three weeks — he finds his eyes drifting shut, his head lulling off to the side.

Before Dan can realize that any time has passed, a clumsy weight is crashing down next to him, and an overfilled mug of hot chocolate is being held in front of his face. Dan shuffles his hands free from the blanket and takes the mug. The ceramic is hot against his palms, the steam warming his nose as he holds it close. 

“Thanks Phil,” he says, pressing a tender kiss into Phil’s shoulder. 

He must have changed while the kettle was on, because he’s not wearing his damp jumper anymore, Dan realizes. Dan frowns, one hand tugging on the sleeve of Phil’s new, dry jumper. “You couldn’t have brought _me_ something dry to wear?” Dan complains.

“Sorry,” Phil shrugs, only looking a little chagrined. Under the blanket, Phil tugs at the hem of Dan’s damp sweater. “You could always just take it off,” he proposes with a cheeky wink — well, more like an aggressive blink.

Over the brim of his mug, Dan shoots Phil an unamused look. “I think I’ll freeze even more if I’m topless, you idiot.”

“Mmmm,” Phil hums. “Not if I cuddle you to warm you up,” he says suggestively.

It’s a ridiculous idea, it really is. The house is hardly warm enough for Dan to not freeze his tits off, and Kath is puttering about upstairs somewhere, and yet Dan finds himself leaning forward to put his mug down on the coffee table all the same. He doesn’t think twice about pulling his sweater off; it’s so wet that it sticks to his skin and, okay, maybe it is a bit smarter of an idea than he originally thought. 

Carelessly, Dan drops his top onto the floor and grabs his drink. He leans back into the sofa, shuffling a little closer to Phil this time, pulling the blanket back around their shoulders.

“Hug me, or else I’m making you go get me one of your hoodies,” Dan demands.

Phil chuckles, but doesn’t protest. He shifts his drink to the hand away from Dan, and wraps his arm around Dan’s bare shoulders. Dan falls into Phil’s embrace, tucking his shoulder into Phil’s side and resting his head on Phil’s chest. It’s not the easiest position to try to drink from, but he _really_ doesn’t care, not when he gets to be this close to Phil.

There are a million and one things that they _could_ talk about, but something about just relaxing into each other and embracing the silence is nice, too. Phil must think so as well, because he doesn’t make any effort to start a conversation, either. His fingers are caressing Dan’s bare arm, feather light touches stroking up and down his bicep. 

Dan sips his hot chocolate, his mind wandering. This is nice, he thinks. It’s nice to be able to cuddle in peace with someone, no tv to distract them from each other, no pressure to maintain mundane conversation. This would have felt awkward with his ex-girlfriend; the silence would have felt oppressive instead of serene. But, Dan supposes, he never felt about her the way he feels about Phil. They got along (for the most part), and they usually had fun together. They didn’t _get_ each other, though. She could never tell when Dan was deep in serious thought just by looking at him. And Dan could never tell what kind of a mood she was in unless she made it _painfully_ clear.

Phil, though.

He and Phil _get_ each other. Dan can feel Phil’s gaze on him, can tell that Phil is feeling just as contemplative and peaceful as he is. Phil seems to magically know that Dan doesn’t want a movie or music or idle chit chat. And Dan can tell that Phil doesn’t want that either.

Dan drains the last bit of hot chocolate from his mug, ready to curl into Phil without having to worry about spilling it. Eager to have his hands free, he nudges his empty mug into Phil’s stomach, trying to get him to take it. Phil’s only response, however, is to glance down at the mug and chuckle.

“Ph _illll_ ,” Dan whines. “Can you put my mug on the table?”

Phil giggles and makes no move for the cup. “You’re a big boy, Dan. You can put your own mug on the table.”

Pouting, Dan tips his head back to glare at Phil. “I don't have a shirt on, though. I’ll _freeze_ if I leave the blanket.” 

It’s probably not true. Truth be told, he’s feeling a lot warmer now that he’s got the wet sweater off, now that he’s been curled into Phil’s warm body for a while, and now that he’s drank a full mug of hot chocolate. Phil doesn’t need to know that, though. Good boyfriends take care of their partners after all, and right now Dan is feeling _far_ too lazy to move. 

“It’ll be two seconds of cold, Dan. I think you’ll live.” Phil sounds amused, much to Dan’s distaste.

“I hate you,” he grumbles, his grip relaxing on the mug, his hand falling to Phil’s lap.

“Mmm,” Phil sighs. Dan can feel Phil nuzzle his nose into his hair — hair that has begun to curl. Hot lips, warm from hot chocolate, press into the crown of Dan’s head. “That’s too bad,” Phil mumbles. “Because I love you.”

For a second, Dan freezes. His whole body tenses up, the air knocked from his lungs and his mind going blank.

And then the full meaning of what Phil has said sinks in, and the butterflies from earlier are back in full force, and his heart is racing and all he can think is _Phil, Phil, Phil._

The glare on Dan’s face _melts_. Phil’s looking down at him, his lip tight between his teeth. He looks nervous, but all Dan can feel is _awe_. 

“Do you mean that?” Dan asks, breathless, hopeful.

Phil kisses Dan’s forehead, his lips lingering a beat longer than necessary. “Of course,” he mumbles against Dan’s skin. “You’re amazing.”

The overwhelming emotions that are coursing through Dan take charge, and suddenly Dan finds himself casting his mug aside, letting it fall to the sofa somewhere beside him. Being exposed to the cold air doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is kissing Phil and showing him that Dan loves him, too, even though he’s too speechless to find the words to say it back right now.

The blanket falls from his shoulders as he springs into Phil’s lap, straddling his legs and leaning in close. They are pressed together from waist to chest, and Phil’s hands have automatically come to rest on Dan’s thighs. 

Dan surges forward, capturing Phil’s lips in a fierce kiss. Beneath him, Phil is kissing back just as hungrily, his hands gliding up and down Dan’s thighs, his thumbs brushing over the waist of Dan’s jeans and petting his soft bare skin. 

“I love you,” Dan whispers against Phil’s lips when he finally has enough sense to be able to talk. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats over and over, unable to stop saying it once he’s actually said the words out loud. The butterflies in his stomach are multiplying and multiplying, and there are so many that Dan is sure that he’s about to _burst_ from them.

“I love you, too,” Phil mumbles back without breaking their kiss. 

Even though Phil had already said it, the easy way that the declaration tumbles out of Phil’s mouth, and the amount of sincerity lacing the words, has Dan grinning so widely that he’s barely able to kiss Phil anymore. He doesn’t pull back though. He pushes through his beaming smile and keeps kissing Phil.

Melting further and further into the kiss, into Phil, Dan licks along Phil’s mouth. Phil’s lips part, and Dan slips his tongue inside, lightly caressing the roof of Phil’s mouth. On his bare back, Phil’s hands are mirroring the movements of Dan’s tongue, gently grazing from his hips to the bottom of his shoulder blades, over and over. Desperate to touch, to hold more of Phil, Dan’s hands wind their way up to Phil’s hair, knocking away the little coverage he still had from the blanket.

“ _Ahem_ ,” a quiet voice says from the doorway. 

Dan springs back, his eyes snapping up over the top of Phil’s head, only to meet Mrs. Lester’s gaze. Phil’s head whips around, and Dan just barely catches sight of the guilty look on his face.

“We were just cuddling,” Phil rushes to explain. The words come out high pitched and fast — he’s definitely a little panicked. “Trying to warm up from the cold.”

Mrs. Lester’s lips quirk up into a smile. She certainly doesn’t _look_ like she’s about to reprimand them — not like how Dan’s mum would if she had found him making out with someone on the lounge sofa. 

“Getting warm usually works better with clothes on,” she says. Dan can just barely pick up the teasing notes in her voice. 

“His jumper was wet,” Phil blurts out hurriedly. His shoulders are tense, and Dan can see that the tips of his ears are bright red. On Dan’s hips, Phil’s fingers are digging in harshly, a small outlet for his distress. Phil keeps rambling on, nerves getting the best of him. “It was making him more cold. He was under the blanket until just a second ago. We haven’t — we weren’t — it’s not…” Phil trails off, apparently unable to find a suitable excuse.

Mrs. Lester just laughs, her eyes filled with mirth. “Do I need to remind you that you have a bedroom with a perfectly functional door?”

A hot blush spreads up Dan’s cheeks, reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. Dan buries his face into the crook of Phil’s shoulder, groaning loudly in embarrassment. He hears Mrs. Lester laugh again, the sound growing quieter as she presumably walks away. 

Phil twists back around, but Dan stays hidden. He’s sure his face is bright red, and he’s not convinced he can look at Phil just yet.

“Oh _god_ ,” Phil groans. “I can’t believe my _mum_ just walked in on us. And told us to _get a room_.” 

“I _know_ , that was horrifying,” Dan grumbles into Phil’s neck. “I can’t _believe_ you convinced me to take my shirt off. You’re the worst.”

Phil giggles, his chest rumbling and jostling Dan. The warm laugh, the way they can recover from something so humiliating together, brings about another _kaleidoscope_ of butterflies in Dan’s stomach. Phil’s arms wrap more tightly around Dan’s waist, squeezing tightly. “I love you, too, Bear.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: you don’t have to read part 1 first, but i worked really hard to make them go together, and i wrote these as companion pieces to explore certain themes, so i’d like it if you did. a big thanks to my biffle @auroraphilealis for popping in on me throughout the day to edit even though she had a headache xx
> 
> instagram inspiration  1  2 

_Warm_ , is Dan’s first thought when he wakes up. Without opening his eyes, he knows that the comfortable weight across his bare stomach is Phil’s arm, knows that the soft tickle against his chin is Phil’s messy hair. Dan’s woken up this way countless times in the last nine years, but it never ceases to make him feel a rush of love and affection for the sleeping man in his arms.

Eyes fluttering open, Dan brings his free hand — the one that’s not wrapped around Phil’s bare back — up to Phil’s hair, slowly carding through the black locks. Dan pushes it back, arranging it into an imitation of the sexy quiff that Phil’s been considering getting for months.

Dan watches as Phil nudges his head back into Dan’s hand, tilting his head backwards so its facing Dan’s, and opens his eyes. Phil looks sleepy, and his eyes are squinting against the light seeping in from the curtains that Dan insists on leaving open at night. 

“Morning, you,” Dan says, smiling down at Phil, brushing his hair even further back off his forehead.

“Morning,” Phil mumbles. He tilts his head further back, and pushes up the slightest bit to press a light kiss to the underside of Dan’s jaw. Bleary eyes drift away from Dan, scanning over their room and shifting to their window. 

Suddenly, Phil is shooting up from Dan’s arms, one hand insistently smacking Dan’s chest. “Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan!”

“What?” Dan asks with an amused lilt to his voice as he takes in his boyfriend’s enthusiastic antics. Phil’s eyes are wide, a broad smile stretching across his face. His posture is erect, and he’s staring with such focused attention.

Reluctantly, Dan tears his eyes away from Phil and follows his gaze to the window.

“Dan! It’s snowing!” The delight in Phil’s voice is palpable. Even as he speaks, his eyes are still trained on the window, watching the flurry of white flakes fall.

“Phil,” Dan says with an amused roll of his eyes. “It’s February. It’s snowed three times this year alone.”

“So?!” Phil exclaims, snapping his head back to look at Dan. There’s a glint of disbelief in his eyes, like he’s outraged that Dan isn’t more interested in the snowfall.

An enamoured smile spreads across his face, an instinctual reaction to almost everything Phil does. “You’re right,” Dan concedes. He’s placating Phil, sure, but truth be told, he’d get excited about anything that made Phil light up like he is right now. “The snow is amazing. Fantastic. Best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Phil’s beaming smile twists into a playful pout. “Don’t tease me.” He sounds miffed, but it’s in that good-natured way he’s always like when Dan’s being a little shit.

“No, never,” Dan refutes sarcastically, rolling his eyes again. He brings a hand up to Phil’s hair, though, brushing through it some more. “But seriously,” Dan continues, all teasing gone from his tone. “The amount of happiness that you get from the smallest joys in life is one of the things I love most about you.” 

This time, it’s Phil who rolls his eyes, but Dan can see through the defense mechanism — can see the way that Phil’s cheeks are flushing, can see the grin tugging at the edges of Phil’s mouth. “Shut up,” Phil protests weakly. He always tries to hide it when Dan makes him flustered, but it ends up making it all the more obvious. 

“Never.” Dan’s hand falls from Phil hair, just to the nape of his neck. He pulls gently, urging Phil down, down, down. Phil goes willingly, settling back into Dan’s embrace, letting Dan guide his head so that their mouths meet.

Phil’s lips are soft against Dan’s slightly chapped ones. Their movements are slow and languid, even as Dan licks at Phil’s bottom lip and Phil parts his mouth to let Dan’s tongue slip inside. It’s still unhurried and tender when Dan strokes his tongue along the roof of Phil’s mouth and Phil lightly massages Dan’s tongue with his own. There’s love and passion in the kiss, yes. But it’s not the kind of heated passion that a good morning kiss would have held years ago — not that they don’t have those kinds of morning kisses anymore, because they certainly do. It’s just, now they are capable of these kinds of morning kisses too. Now, they find the lazy, loving kisses just as nice.

At eighteen, Dan would never have thought that these kinds of kisses would cause butterflies to beat at his stomach almost ten years later. But here he is, laying in bed with Phil nearly on top of him, kissing his boyfriend with no intention of taking it any farther right now, and he can still feel butterflies erupting in his stomach.

Apparently, there are some things that never change.

“I wanna go outside,” Phil mutters against Dan’s lips, only pulling back far enough that he’s able to speak. Dan can feel Phil’s breath ghosting over his lips, and maybe he should be repulsed by morning breath, but he’s not. 

A quiet giggle escapes Dan’s mouth — he’s not surprised by Phil’s wish, not by a longshot. 

“Of course you do.” Dan’s aiming for teasing, but even he can hear that his tone is nothing but infatuated. 

“Let me live my life,” Phil pouts, his own giggles ruining his attempts to be petulant. He throws the covers off both of them as he climbs out of bed. “And get up. You’re coming with me.”

“Of course I am.” Dan shakes his head, smiling. It’s disgusting, but he’d do anything to make Phil happy. Including getting out of their warm bed and pulling on approximately two dozen layers of clothing and following Phil wherever outside he wants to go at ten in the bloody morning when it’s negative five degrees outside. 

Luckily, it turns out Phil doesn’t have any grand plans of going on a proper walk through the park, or even down to the nearby coffee shop. Dan’s in the process of zipping up his coat when Phil grabs him by the bicep and pulls him towards the door to their balcony. 

“Come on, come on, come on!” Phil chants impatiently. One hand is fumbling with the lock on the sliding door, the other is tugging urgently at Dan’s arm.

“I’m here, Phil, I’m here.” Dan reaches around Phil, and knocks his overexcited hand away from the door. Easily, Dan flips the lock and slides the door open. A rush of cold air washes towards them making Dan regret the decision to not grab a hat in addition to his gloves. 

The cold doesn’t seem to bother Phil, because he’s running outside as soon as the door is open far enough for him to fit through. The snow is falling fast and hard, immediately clinging to Phil’s glasses. The whiteness is a stark contrast to Phil’s messy black hair, which he’s arranged back down into a slightly messy fringe. 

There’s a wide smile on Phil’s face, a childlike look of wonder in his eyes. He spins away from Dan, looking instead out over their balcony at the ground below them. From Dan’s place in the doorway, he can just barely tell that the street below them is covered in a dusting of snow. Across the way, their neighbors’ balconies are all coated in white, too, making outside _bright._

Dan follows Phil out, passing by him to lean on the railing of the balcony. He doesn’t face out towards the world, though. He spins around, back to the concrete barrier, and stares back at Phil. 

The sun shining off the snow may be bright, but it doesn’t have anything on Phil. The smile on his face is infectious, the wrinkles around his happy eyes a pleasant reminder of how long they’ve been together, how happy they still are with each other.

And with that thought, the butterflies are back once again, fluttering around in Dan’s stomach and making him ache with affection for the man in front of him.

“It’s so pretty!” Phil gushes, a note of reverence for the weather in his voice. Phil’s gaze is quickly scanning over the the scene, flitting from the sky, to just over Dan’s shoulder, to the ground below them. He doesn’t look at Dan, but Dan doesn’t mind. He knows that snow means something to Phil, something he’ll never understand himself, but adores all the same. 

“Yeah,” Dan agrees, his own eyes still trained on Phil. It’s cheesy, _so_ fucking cheesy, and he’s glad Phil’s not looking at him to catch him like this. Not that Phil hasn’t realized how utterly in love Dan is with him after all these years — there’s no room for modesty or hesitance anymore. But that doesn’t stop Dan from feeling a twinge of embarrassment when he’s found out.

Phil stares at the falling snow for another full minute, not saying anything, just watching it tumble from the sky. Dan keeps watching Phil. Neither the way the leaves of their plants are covered in snow, nor the way the ground is glistening, is enough to tempt Dan to look anywhere else. 

Eventually, Phil’s snapping out of his reverie, looking downwards at his own body. His bare hands slip into the pockets of his coat, feeling around for a moment before sliding back out. He’s got his phone in his hand, his other fiddling with his fringe.

Dan pushes off the railing and crosses the balcony, coming to a stop in front of Phil. 

“Here, let me help,” Dan whispers. He reaches up to brush Phil’s fringe into something neater. The gloves Dan’s wearing makes it difficult though, and really all he’s doing is making Phil’s hair more staticy. It’s an excuse to be close to Phil though, an excuse to touch, and he’s going to capitalize on it. 

Phil doesn’t seem to care that Dan’s making his hair worse. He wraps his free hand around Dan’s neck, tugging him closer. Phil’s fingers are cold against Dan’s bare skin, and there a reprimanding remark about remembering gloves on the tip of Dan’s tongue. But then Phil’s closing the distance between them, brushing Dan’s lips with his own, and the words die before Dan can say anything.

Dan kisses back, lets the hand that’s not in Phil’s hair wrap around his waist and pull him closer. Phil’s cold hand slides from Dan’s neck, and dips under the hem of his shirt. His fingers are like icicles on the skin of Dan’s upper back, but he doesn’t care. Neighbors could easily see them, but Dan doesn’t care about that either. It’s nothing they haven’t seen before at this point, and they’re all far too old to care about who Dan and Phil are publicly. And right now, even if there was anyone young enough to be a fan, Dan still wouldn’t care.

Because his stomach is flipping over, and the butterflies are back — only on second thought, maybe they never went away. Not today, and not in the last nine years. 

Phil pulls back, pressing a final chaste kiss to Dan’s lips. 

“I wanna instagram the snow!” There’s glee in Phil’s voice. It’s high pitched, and he’s talking fast, and he’s just the slightest bit out of breath — whether it’s because of his excitement or from kissing, Dan isn’t sure.

“You’re a nerd,” Dan responds fondly. He kisses Phil’s cheek, lingering for a brief second before he steps out of Phil’s bubble. He retreats back to his spot against the railing, walking backwards so he doesn’t have to stop watching Phil. 

Phil’s tinkering with his fringe again, using his camera as a mirror. Dan thinks it looks perfect as is, likes the way that it’s still ruffled slightly from bed and sticks up around the frames of his glasses. There’s stubble dotting along Phil’s upper lip and chin. It makes him look older — well, maybe not _older_ , persay. It makes him look his age, mature. It reminds Dan that he isn’t dating a _boy_ anymore; he’s in love with a proper, grown up _man_. 

When Phil’s got his fringe arranged in a way he must be satisfied with, he lifts the camera higher, angling it down towards his face. The shutter snaps once, twice, three times. With each click of the camera, Phil’s expression changes a little, his head shifts to the side and then back up. There’s a picture where Phil’s wearing a wide, closed mouth grin. There's one where Phil’s teeth are showing and he’s positively beaming. There’s one where his head is cocked ever-so-slightly to the side and his smile is kind of lopsided. 

The ledge Dan is leaning on is covered in snow, and it’s seeping through his jacket. The dampness that’s slowly growing on his back gives him an idea. The thought makes him want to giggle, he can feel it bubbling up in his throat, but Dan swallows it down. He doesn’t want to spoil his plans by laughing.

Phil’s still taking pictures, changing the angle slightly. He’s too busy to notice Dan scooping up snow and packing it into a ball. Dan grabs some more, adding it to the already sizable pile in his hand. Pausing with the snowball in his gloved hand, he digs his own phone out of his pocket. He clumsily swipes to the camera and selects video mode — he’s trying to use his right hand, and it’s a bit shaky, but he manages. 

Angling the camera at Phil and hitting record, Dan asks, “Ya takin’ a selfie?” It comes out teasing, _knowing_. 

Phil doesn’t have enough time to look over before Dan lobs the snowball at Phil. It collides perfectly with his head, catching him off guard. 

“Noooooo!” Phil cries as his eyes squeeze shut, and he cowers in on himself. The shutter of the camera clicks a few more times as Phil continues taking pictures, probably on accident. Stumbling backwards, he shakes his hair as he stands up, a futile effort to get the snow out of his fringe.

Dan raises his hand and points a mocking finger at Phil, making sure it’s in the frame of the video. The laugh that he’d been biting back comes out, a smug giggle that makes him nearly gasp for air. 

There’s a shocked look on Phil’s face that makes Dan overly satisfied with himself. Until, that is, Phil springs into action. Dan doesn’t have time — or willpower — to move as Phil quickly bends down, and scoops up his own handful of snow. 

Phil doesn’t take the time to pack it into a ball like Dan had, instead just chucking it aimlessly at Dan. The snow comes apart in midair, turning into a flurry of flakes before it makes it to Dan’s phone. 

“Terrible boyfriend!” Phil shouts indignantly. Laughter breaks through the end of his complaint, though, and Dan knows he’s not actually annoyed. 

In perfect sync, they both lower their phones and tuck them into their coat pockets. Dan starts towards Phil first, but Phil’s only a second behind. They both grab more snow, neither bothering with making proper snowballs.

Dan’s still ahead of Phil. He raises his handful of snow up and smushes it into Phil’s head, rubbing it in so that it really soaks his hair this time. 

Phil huffs out a whiny noise of both surprise and disbelief. He reaches for Dan, his hand landing on the collar of his coat. 

Time freezes, and Dan can’t quite process what Phil’s doing so that he can defend himself. Phil’s staring right at Dan, a mischievous spark in his eye and an impish smirk on his lips. And then the world starts again, and Phil’s tugging harshly at Dan’s collar, his hand flying up in an instant. 

And then there’s just _wet_. 

Cold, cold snow slides down Dan’s bare chest — Phil had managed to pull away both Dan’s jumper and coat and get the snow all the way on the inside. It’s frigid, somehow both clumps of snow and trails of water at the same time.

A delayed loud gasp comes from Dan as the shock wears off. “You’ll pay for that, Lester!” he screeches, voice high and loud.

Phil whines, his noise just as high-pitched as Dan’s shriek, and he raises his arms to block his face, as if he’s preparing for another attack. Dan doesn’t reach for more snow, though. Instead, he wraps his arms around Phil’s waist and pulls him down. They tumble to the ground, and Dan lands harshly on his arse. The pain doesn’t phase him though, and he doesn’t hesitate before rolling over so that Phil’s trapped beneath him.

Shifting slightly, Dan straddles Phil’s waist and collects his wrists, one in each hand. Dan guides them over Phil’s head and pins them down. Laughter fills the air, loud in the calm silence of the snowy morning. It’s coming from both of them, but Phil’s laughing louder for once. Snow is probably getting under Phil’s sleeves, and Phil’s not wearing gloves, but that’s not Dan’s problem. Phil was a big boy, he should have remembered gloves.

Dan leans forward, stopping when their chests are almost touching and their mouths are just centimeters apart. Wide eyes stare up at him, but Phil’s smiling, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth. 

“I win!” Dan brags. It doesn’t come out as taunting as he’d intended. His voice is low and husky, probably too much so to really count as boasting. 

“I hate you,” Phil shoots back. There’s not a single trace of malice in his voice, though. His arms are relaxed in Dan’s; he’s not fighting to get free. Instead, there’s a soft smile on his face and his eyes are full of nothing but love. 

“I love you too, you spoon.” Dan shakes his head fondly. Looking down at Phil on _their_ balcony, taking in the way that Phil’s black hair and pale skin stand out against the snow, Dan’s reminded of the first time he’d been with Phil in the snow, back in the earliest days of their relationship. Back then, he would never have dared to dream of this, of one day living in a _third_ home with Phil, of still being just as in love nearly a decade later. Back then, Dan had been too caught up in the newness of everything, too shocked that Phil liked him — _loved_ him — to be able to think beyond the present moment.

Now, though, Dan finds himself thinking of the future so, so often. Whenever his mind is empty, or whenever Phil does something particularly cute, all Dan can think is _forever home_ and _forever together_ and a million other _forevers_ that he wants with Phil.

“Come here,” Phil orders playfully. Dan doesn’t need clarification, and doesn’t need to be told twice. He leans down, closing the gap between them and kissing Phil.

Every kiss they’ve shared this morning may have been slow and languid, but this one isn’t. Adrenaline is still coursing through both of their veins — Dan can feel both of their hearts pounding, their breath already coming in broken, fast spurts. It makes the kiss sloppy, heated.

Phil cranes his neck up to kiss Dan harder, his mouth parting to nip at Dan’s lip with his teeth. With a gasp, Dan parts his mouth, and immediately feels Phil’s tongue licking at the sensitive spot behind his top teeth.

Retaliating, Dan rearranges his grip so that he’s got both of Phil’s wrists grasped in one hand. Taking advantage of the newfound freedom of his left hand, Dan tangles his fingers in Phil’s hair and tugs on the locks. It’s enough leverage that Dan is able to push Phil back onto the ground, his fingers cupped around the back of Phil’s head so that the hard ground isn’t too painful. It’s squishing his fingers a bit, but Dan can’t bring himself to care. 

Phil whimpers into the kiss, once again grazing Dan’s lip with his teeth. It’s sexy as hell, and the slight mixture of pleasure and pain has Dan grinding down against Phil’s crotch.

No, there’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s fierce in the best of ways. Phil’s not fighting Dan for dominance, but there’s nothing submissive about him, either. His hips cant up into Dan’s, seeking friction at his own pace. A long leg wraps around Dan’s upper thigh, forcing him even further down. 

The sudden shift in position pulls a loud moan from Dan. Phil giggles into Dan’s mouth, the noise swallowed by their kissing. Dan pulls back just a hair, Phil’s laughter being enough to remind him that they are currently snogging on the floor of their _balcony_.

“You’re just as easy as you were when you were eighteen, I swear,” Phil whispers, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. 

“Like you’re any better!” Dan retorts. “I hardly see you fighting back!” Dan squeezes Phil’s wrists in his hand for emphasis. 

“I’m not the one moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear, though,” Phil points out. He sounds proud, _smug_ even, but Dan doesn’t say anything in his defense. It’s not like Phil’s wrong.

Dan’s not struck dumb from the snogging, not like he would have been when they were first starting out. But he’s still breathless and overwhelmed with love, and he can still feel butterflies dancing in his stomach when Phil looks at him with swollen lips and lust-blown eyes. 

The honeymoon phase is long gone, but their relationship has evolved into something so much _more_ , something Dan knows is even better. And besides, he’s still got so much love and affection for Phil that he can feel it in his _bones_. They don’t need to be riding the high of honeymoon feelings for that.

Dan shrugs, shaking off both Phil’s joking accusation and the arousal that was previously blinding him.

“Inside?” Dan suggests. He doesn’t have any particular intentions, not really, but the cold is starting to get to him, and he can only imagine how Phil feels laying in the snow. 

Phil nods and wiggles his arms in Dan’s grip. Dan lets go, pushing himself off Phil and all the way to standing before he can get distracted again. Below him, Phil is still completely horizontal, so Dan offers him a hand up.

With a small smile, Phil takes Dan’s hand and allows Dan to pull him up. Even through his gloves, Dan can feel how cold Phil’s fingers are, and he feels a slight twinge of guilt for pinning them in the snow for so long.

“Come on,” Phil urges, shaking Dan out of his thoughts. The door to their lounge is still open, something Dan is sure that they’ll regret in a moment, and Phil leads the way inside. Dan follows, sliding it shut behind him and just barely remembering to flick the lock. 

By the time Dan turns around, Phil’s already unzipped his coat and dropped it carelessly on the ground. He’s making his way to their sofa, only stopping to grab Dan’s fluffy pimp blanket from their armchair. Without missing a beat, Dan follows suit. The zipper of his coat is slippery from melted snow, and it takes a few tries for his gloved fingers to grab hold, but he manages just fine once he takes the gloves off.

His coat joins Phil’s on the floor, and they meld into one massive black, wet pile. It’s fine though, they’ll deal with it later. Dan still feels wet and cold though, and it takes him a second to realize that it’s because his shirt is soaked through from when Phil had shoved snow down it. 

“Ugh,” Dan scoffs as he pulls the shirt away from his chest by the collar. He looks down in disdain and, sure enough, there’s a massive dark patch across his whole chest. With a pointed look, Dan glances back up at Phil and gestures to his sopping shirt.

Phil’s already curled up on the sofa, the blanket spread across his lap. “Just take it off and get over here, already,” Phil insists, patting the spot next to him. 

“Fine,” Dan huffs, but he’s already in the process of pulling it off when he speaks, so any attempts to seem annoyed are surely spoiled. Dan drops his shirt on top of the rest of the wet clothing and heads for Phil.

The few steps across the lounge feel like an epic journey — leaving the door open was definitely a poor choice, especially now that Dan’s shirtless. Phil’s waiting for him with open arms, though, and he’s already got the blanket pulled back, so Dan can’t complain too much. 

He’s barely seated before Phil’s flipping the blanket over Dan and pulling him into his arms. It’s much warmer cuddled up to Phil, even if the lounge is still bloody freezing. 

“Wait!” Dan says suddenly, and rips himself out of Phil’s arms. He tugs roughly on Phil’s shirt, continuing before Phil can question him. “Fair’s fair. Your’s comes off, too.”

Phil rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but he leans forward and pulls his shirt over his head anyway. “Happy?” he asks, amused.

“Very,” Dan confirms. He pushes on Phil’s chest, manhandling him into the position he wants. Phil goes willingly — he doesn’t fight when Dan pushes him to lay down, nor question it when Dan grabs at his waist and makes him turn so that his back is pressing into the back of the sofa.

After a decade, Phil can clearly anticipate Dan’s needs and wants, because he automatically opens his arms so that Dan can crawl into his embrace.

And so Dan does, immediately twisting around so that his back is flush with Phil’s stomach. Dan reaches behind him for Phil’s hand, but Phil’s a step ahead of him. His warm arm is already sliding around Dan’s waist, wrapping tightly and pulling him in even closer.

A content sigh warms the back of Dan’s neck at the same time that Dan exhales one of his own. With a soft chuckle, he intertwines his fingers with Phil’s and tugs upwards so that their hands are cradled into his chest.

“I don’t know how you still manage to make me feel like a kid in love,” Phil quietly murmurs into Dan’s ear. “It’s been years.”

“I know,” Dan hums in response. “Almost a decade.” He strokes his thumb over the back of Phil’s hand. It’s still chilly, even in Phil’s arms. “The old flat might have been shit, but I miss the fireplace.” 

A soft giggle tickles Dan’s neck. “We can get one in the forever home, where we’ll spend the next decade.”

It’s a wonderful thought, a forever home that’s all theirs. A fireplace that they can curl up in front of, maybe with a dog or — or a kid, Dan thinks, his breath hitching. Phil must notice the change in Dan’s breath, because he hums questioningly in Dan’s ear. 

The ideas that were in Dan’s head feel like too much to say right now, too much to lay on Phil when they are about to embark on a world tour in just a few short months. So he falls back into humor, the easiest defense.

“Who says I want a forever home or another ten years with you, mister?” Dan teases with a loving squeeze to Phil’s hand.

“Mmm,” Phil hums again. “You’d better,” he whispers in Dan’s ear. His voice is thick and lazy, and Dan knows that his eyes are probably closed and relaxation is settling in. 

“Oh?” Dan taunts. “And why’s that?”

Still-chilly lips press into the nape of Dan’s neck, but he doesn’t flinch. If anything, Dan leans further backwards into the kiss, encouraging Phil to keep going. Phil catches Dan’s subtle hint, and presses a trail of light kisses along the side of Dan’s neck, pausing at the crook of his shoulder to speak again.

“Because I wanna marry you,” Phil murmurs into Dan’s skin. 

Dan jolts forward slightly, his head whipping around to look at Phil over his shoulder. They’d hinted at marriage someday, of course they had. It’s been there, somewhere underneath all of the _forever_ talks that they’ve had. But they’d never said it that plainly, not in those clear of words. 

Phil’s staring back at Dan with an amused and satisfied look. There’s a coy smile pulling at the edges of his lips, and the wrinkles around his eyes are back.

“Are you serious?” Dan manages to asks. There’s almost no air in his lungs, and he’s impressed that he’s able to get the words out at all. Hope laces his voice, he can hear it clear as day and he’s sure Phil can as well.

“Of course I’m serious,” Phil chuckles, sounding incredulous by Dan’s doubt. “Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know,” Dan responds stupidly. “I remember you saying that marriage is just a piece of paper.”

Beneath the blanket, Phil shifts their hands around so that he’s holding onto Dan’s fingers. He thumbs over the inside of Dan’s finger meaningfully, and it takes Dan a second to realize that Phil’s stroking his _ring_ finger. 

“A piece of paper I very much want with you, Daniel Howell.”

Twisting around to look at Phil is beginning to hurt Dan’s neck and, besides, he wants to see Phil better. Clasping his fingers around Phil’s thumb, Dan squirms around until he’s properly facing Phil. Their faces are just centimeters apart now, their chests separated only by their hands tucked between them.

Dan’s too overwhelmed to be able to say anything, can’t think of any words that could possibly articulate how he’s feeling right now, so he surges forward and closes the distance between them. 

Phil kisses back, and tugs his hand free from Dan’s grip so that he can wind his arm around Dan’s waist and pull him closer. The words are echoing in Dan’s brain, playing on repeat like a glorious, perfect broken record. 

The combination of emotions and snogging are too much for his poor unfit lungs to handle. Against his will, Dan breaks away from the kiss, lingering so close that their lips are almost brushing. Dan’s breaths are coming in fast pants, and he’s pretty sure he’s smiling like an idiot, but he doesn’t have it in him to care.

“Are you proposing?” Dan questions, his voice light, a trace of humor in it despite the gravity of what he’s asking.

“Do you want me to be?” Phil asks back casually, like it’s the simplest question in the world. There’s light-hearted amusement in Phil’s voice too, but there’s also a thoughtful look in his eyes. 

_Yes_. The answer comes instinctually to Dan, but he dithers. He’s not sure if Phil’s really serious, and even if he is, Dan isn’t sure if Phil would really want to commit to _that_ right now.

“We’re going on tour in like three months,” Dan says in response. It’s not an answer to Phil’s question, not really. But it’s the best he can do.

“Loads of people are engaged for a year,” Phil counters easily.

“Planning a wedding while we’re abroad would be absolute madness,” Dan retorts, but there’s awe in his voice and a stupid smile on his lips and he’s so, _so_ fucked because he doesn't care. He doesn’t care at all. He doesn’t even know why he’s pretending to care.

“So we hire a wedding planner.” Phil shrugs, or at least shrugs the best he can while laying on his side. The word _wedding_ is loud in Dan’s ears, and it makes his stomach do funny things, and his brain has gone fuzzy. “What’dya say?” Phil prompts, still sounding infuriatingly nonchalant. “Marry me?”

Words have completely escaped Dan; there’s not a single articulate thought left in his head. All he can do is nod vigorously, a beaming smile taking over his face. He lunges at Phil, and messily kisses him. It doesn’t work, not really. Dan’s still smiling far too widely to be able to kiss properly, but he pushes through it and keeps trying. 

“Is that a yes?” Phil murmurs against Dan’s lips, his hand sliding up Dan’s back and splaying across Dan’s shoulder blades, pulling him in further.

“Of course, you dolt,” Dan mumbles back, looping his arm around around Phil’s neck and tangling his hand in Phil’s hair. He relaxes, and the smile is still tugging at his lips, but he’s able to kiss now. So he kisses. He kisses and he kisses and he kisses.

There’s a kaleidoscope of butterflies beating at Dan’s stomach. There couldn’t be a better term for it, Dan thinks somewhere in the back of his mind, because loving Phil is exactly like looking through a kaleidoscope — it’s bright and colorful and ever changing and at times dizzying. But it’s always, _always_ the most beautiful thing that Dan could ever imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like and reblog on tumblr 

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 with 2018 will be up soon!
> 
>  
> 
> like and reblog 
> 
>  
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at [imnotinclinedtomaturity](http://www.imnotinclinedtomaturity.tumblr.com)


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